


New World, New Sins

by Amymel86



Series: Sugar and Spice Drabbles [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-10 22:03:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20142697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/pseuds/Amymel86
Summary: Hold on now,she tells herself.Just because he's a pretty picture and he can write considerate words in his letters, doesn't mean he'd be a kind and gentle husband, now does it?





	New World, New Sins

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vivilove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/gifts).

> Word limits?! What ate those?! 👀
> 
> 😫😫😫😫
> 
> Ok so here's my sort of historical au drabble for the 'sins' prompt of the drabble *laughs hysterically* event. It's 'sort of' because this is like the establishing of the American colonies but in Planetos. So, with that in mind, I know there are major differences (like the original Virginia Wives/ tobacco wives pretty much had their pick of husband and the first wave of ladies shipped over there weren't criminals etc etc) so PLEASE don't come at me with historical facts - this is just an imagined jamestown INSPIRED drabble. 💜
> 
> Gifted to Vivi for being awesome 💜

Is it a sin that Sansa wants to throw the weak-stomached girl, Lollys overboard so that the undulating, hungry grey sea can have her, and Sansa and her fellow travelling ladies are spared the stench of fresh vomit every hour?

Probably.

Is it a sin that she's sweet-talked her way into the cook's favour with batting eyelashes and pinch-pink cheeks, purely so she is able to sneak off with some of his stashed candied plums when his back is turned?

Most likely.

Is it a sin to covet the sketch one of her cabin mates, Jeyne boasts of?

Maybe.

Jeyne's soon-to-be husband looks fine indeed and Sansa possesses no indication of her own intended's looks with which to measure them against. She secretly hopes that the sketch is a lie and that Jeyne's husband turns out to have huge ears and yellowing teeth.

Is it a sin that she'd killed a man?

Sansa doesn't think so, but here she is, on a ship chartered by the good New Northland Company. The colonies in the new world are said to be growing and thriving, the men there having worked their hands raw and their backs to aching, trying to settle and make a better tomorrow.

The only problem was, for a better tomorrow, the new world was lacking something key to its survival; women. Or, more specifically, wives.

Normally, Sansa Stark's own life would've been penance for her crime. She'd killed. Taken a man's life. But she'd pled prettily to the judge and explained that Petyr Baelish had designs on being indecent with her and so she'd done what she could to prevent him ruining her before marriage. That, coupled with the fact that her late father's memory was still very much respected about town brought the judge to offer Sansa a choice. Be a wife in the new world, or be a corpse at a noose's end.

The New Northland Company had managed to match her with a man fairly quickly; a doctor in New Wintertown. He'll be earning a decent wage with that kind of profession, so Sansa fancies she'll be kept well enough. But what of the man? They come in all shapes and sizes. But of course, they come in an array of temperaments too. 

Her husband-to-be seems polite enough in his letters, she thinks, smoothing one of them down atop her skirts as the ship sways one way and then the other. It's been weeks at sea now and Sansa is quite used to the rolling that somehow still agitates Lollys' tummy.

In this one letter, her intended speaks of his wishes for her to feel comfortable in his home - _her new home_. That he has purchased new goosefeather pillows and ordered a rocking chair to be made by the town's carpenter especially for her. She'd told him in one her own correspondences that she dearly loves to sew and he intends to place her chair next to the cabin's largest window so she can make use of the sunlight. She must admit, he sounds considerate enough.

But even brutes can write a pretty letter.

Sansa sighs as the boat rocks. They'll dock before the sun ducks down behind the horizon. In just a few hours she, and all the girls around her will be meeting with their new life - _their new men_.

In the bunk beside her, Gilly curls herself into a tight ball. The poor thing has barely recieved more than her new husband's name. She won't know what kind if man might await her. At least Sansa's has made some sort of effort. At least she has her letters. And her rocking chair. The boat lurches violently, thick timbers creaking and Sansa thinks she might've had enough of rocking and hopes her husband is not offended if she leaves her new chair unused for a time.

Sooner than she'd thought, they reach land and Sansa is the one who feels like emptying the contents of her tummy. Feeling stability and stillness under her feet is odd to her now but she does not anticipate stepping foot on another ship any time soon.

All the maids line up on the dock. They've all put on their finest frocks in a bid to give the best first impression to the husbands that are waiting to greet them. Sansa fusses with her hair and wishes she'd had some sweet smelling oil to dab behind her ears. Alas, she hadn't anything of the kind in her possession and had to make do with rubbing lime rind that she'd pilfered when cook wasn't looking into her skin. She hopes it masks the salty scent of weeks at sea.

New Wintertown dock is crude and small compared to Stony Shore where they'd set sail, and all Sansa can see waiting to greet them is a mass of men; some dressed finely, some in more modest garb. These were the men of the new world. These were the men who are building the colony. These were men that looked as though they'd spent years without laying eyes upon a woman in the flesh. They were all stood, waiting, staring, that Sansa felt like some sort of oddity; a curiosity to be gawked at.

An officer of The New Northland Company came to stand at the mouth of the dock. He took poor Lollys' paper, inspected it, and then called her husband's name out to the crowd. A hand raised to claim her, and off she trotted. Just like that.

The next girl offered her papers and every maid took a step forward in line. Sansa eyes all the menfolk stood watching them hungrily. Should she have chosen this path? She hopes she won't come to regret it. She ushers her doubts away. The Gods offered her this. She was either in line for the hangman or in line to be claimed by a husband. She'll take her chances in the new world.

Wetting her dry, chapped lips, Sansa hands over her papers with slightly trembling hands when it's her turn.

"Oh, the good doc's got himself a wife, huh?" The officer smiled before turning to the all male crowd. "Tarly!" He bellows and Sansa's heart decides to skip every other beat.

"Here!" A man calls out. Her nerves are shot to all the seven hells but the man that steps forward to claim her makes her want to jump for joy!

He's handsome. A little rugged looking, but Sansa supposes most of the menfolk around these parts look as though they're in need if a woman's touch in more ways than one. But Gods be good, he has wonderful pouty lips, enviable dark curls and soulful dark grey eyes. Sansa thinks she's fit to swoon.

_Hold on now, _She tells herself._ Just because he's a pretty picture and he can write considerate words in his letters, doesn't mean he'd be a kind and gentle husband, now does it? _

He's looking at her like perhaps he's never seen a woman before. Sansa stomps on her realisation that she kind of likes being looked at like that by him. He looks awestruck.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Samwell Tarly," she tells him, bobbing up and down and holding her frock. Sansa gave him her best smile - a smile she was happy to say seemed to make her new husband blush.

Then, something shook him out of the daze she was enjoying watching him in. "Uh, no. That is, I'm not Sam."

_What?_

"He sent me to fetch you on account of bein' busy with his work."

_Oh_ there was a horrible sinking feeling in her tummy now and Sansa suddenly had more sympathy for Lollys' ails back on the ship.

"He's my brother," the man who was not her new husband continued, "or, at least , he's _like a brother_ to me. I'm Jon, Jon Snow," he licked at those plump lips and offered her his hand in greeting. "Sam and I combined our neighbouring plots and built the one house on it, so I hope you don't mind me sharing your home with me, Miss." Jon bent to pick up her belongings, gesturing with a tilt of his head for her to follow.

She hadn't expected this. "Will you not be claiming a wife today, Mr Snow?" She asked, her head all ajumble.

He threw her a smile over his shoulder and Sansa thinks it might now be her turn to be a little awestruck.

"Reckon it'd be a while before I can afford myself one of those."

Is it a sin to already be imagining laying naked in the arms of a man who is not to be her husband before she's even met her intended?

Definitely.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh - and you KNOW sweet Samwell will treat Sansa with respect BUT me think he might end up giving his heart to a different gal who sailed over on that ship ;) of course, he'll feel guilty about this... and Jon and Sansa will feel guilty about the naughty things they might've done while Sam is out doctoring here and there too 😁


End file.
